Snow is happening. Run away.

Here is something I wrote a while ago, meaning to put it here on my blog page.

As a preface, I should tell you that I didn't actually sing karaoke last night. Last night, I sat at home watching episodes of shows on Hulu. And that is probably what I am going to do tonight too. Maybe some laundry, but by 'Laundry' I mean watching shows on Hulu.

There is a ton of snow falling on the Minneapolis/ St. Paul Theatre today. So much so, that I am not even going out to get the half and half I need to enjoy my coffee. That says a lot about the amount of snow. It also says something about how much I like half and half in my coffee.

Zissou and I went to the dollar store to get his daily planner, since he refused to pay $15 for one at Office Max. One dollar seems to be the correct amount of cash to pay for anything these days, economy being what it is. I picked up a few boxes of Fiber One Bars. That's right. Fiber One. When you get up there in years like yours truly, you need to be regular. The trouble is, the kind I got were freaking delicious. Chris and I each had one, and both commented on how much we wanted to eat another on, but couln't for fear we would blow out something that should never be blown out. If you do have the means, economy being what it is, I highly suggest picking up some 'Oats and Peanut Butter Fiber One Bars' They are WAY better than Snickers or bales of Hay that people usually use to stay regular.

On our way to the Mansion gate, after we left the dollar tree, I biffed it on a big patch of ice. Clocked my right knee pretty bad. It is the knee that went through the dash board of my 1986 Toyota Tercell Wagon when i totalled it all those years ago. It has never been right since, but I rarely complain. Now I will complain more. Brace yourself.

Anyhow, here is a thing:

I‘m used to the whiskey they serve at the Green Mill during those magical hours that they call ‘Happy’ Most of the servers know me, and they usually have my Whiskey-Diet (as I am always trying to watch my figure) at my table within minutes of my arrival. I don’t want to say that I ‘have the hookup’ when it comes to free drinks, even though I feel I should, as I come in there several nights a week, dragging my colorful array for friends with me which I can only assume is good for business.

I’ve spent night after night searching the city for two things: Good happy hours, and good Karaoke. Sadly, I have started to think that never the two shall meet. Where one happy hour has great two for ones, they seriously lack a small corner with a microphone so I can belt out ‘Janie’s got a Gun’ for my adoring fans. By ‘fans’, I mean ‘friends’, and by ‘friends’, I mean the victims that hear me sing anything by Aerosmith. And of course, if the songbooks at a certain venue are packed with the hits where everyone sings along, the drinks cost more than a tank of gas at the Super America down the street. I mean, how else are you going to become the next American Idol if you can’t hold a cup of liquid courage while you massacre Neil Diamond?

Last night, I went adventuring in the mean streets of Uptown and found myself in the confines of the Country Bar & Grill on Lake and Lyndale. While I took interest in the huge buffalo head that looks like it was the first Buffalo head ever mounted on a wall, and mused to myself that I should think about getting some of those lighting fixtures that were entwined in deer antlers, I felt I might have found the perfect place to call my new ‘karaoke home’

The tap beer flowed like water that was fermented with hops. Just like beer should be. And let me tell you, I am not a beer drinker. But for $1.75 for a tall glass, you better believe that I was going to start.

I was promised me karaoke. And the guy who was in the dark corner trying to figure out the audio/visual stuff so I could start strutting my vocal stuff was the one who was going to make it happen. It’s just too bad that he wasn’t the regular ‘karaoke engineer’ The usual lady was gone for the night, and through his almost constant swearing at which cable went where, I heard that he didn’t have a clue about what he was doing.

But a few of those cheap brews were making me a patient man. (it helped that I was at a table with several good looking women) My name was finally called, and my grip on the mic was firm. I was going to impress almost 10 people in that place how Brian Adams should sound like…

And nothing happened.

Nothing happened when the guy pressed play.

Nothing happened when the guy swore at the machine.

Nothing happened when I started to pout. This song was really going to impress the ladies. I was sure of it.

As he started packing up the equipment, he muttered a short ‘sorry, man’ and then he pried the mic out of my hands.

Within 15 minutes, we were walking through the door of the Green Mill, where my Whiskey and diet was waiting for me, and I heard an Aerosmith song on the muzak.

So the moral of that story is: You sure as hell better know what you are doing with the karaoke setup BEFORE you hand me the Mic. I hold grudges. Especially KARAOKE GRUDGES.

Tonight, instead of going to see a friends Sketch Comedy Show that has been cancelled due to the snowfall, I will try editing some video and maybe do a YesAndy Blog. Hope you are keeping warm out there, and remember to be nice to those who are less fortunate.

I am going to go eat another Fiber One bar. While doing laundry. And think of the revenge I will exact on that one karaoke guy who made me pout.

Oh! And you should check out my friend Mike Brody's Blog. The link is to the right. He is quite funny.

Stay Awesome, or I will declare a Snow Emergency on you. And will never tell you where it is safe to park.

Andy